


Lost souls that find home.

by Caledon_reyes



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adieu! Have a good day you., Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Angst, Heed my warnings, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I apologise, It's not flowery, M/M, Okay I'm just a kid with button pressing issues, Omg tagging is so fun, The beginning is not flowery, There's a lota angst in the beginning tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2019-10-13 07:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caledon_reyes/pseuds/Caledon_reyes
Summary: Thorin took out 20 pounds and smashed the notes on the counter, 'How does one say 'fuck you and your reptilian husband' in flower?' He demanded more or less.He heard a chuckle as a response.'With that amount of poison, you might as well just send them a bunch of Belladonna.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I am not a good writer or a story teller, I'm just here for a beer and a good time. However, I will try my best to meet your standards.

 

  
| - - - - |  
  
  
The midnight skies peered down upon a man walking up from a darkly lit alley. His appearance was rather bleary and his direction in life was comparatively unfocused. He meandered about, not paying any attention to his surroundings.  
  
  
The winds blew cold, the kind that spewed thrills down your spine. For goodness' sake, only those without a mind would wander around at past midnight in the streets of London on a January night.  
  
  
Yet, that did not bother the man walking down before he halted upon the sighting of a newspaper. One which was a month or more old and on it the headlines were clear. In bold italics was written-  
  
  
" **_Durin disowned- The heir of the Erebor company, Thorin Durin was publicly disowned by his family of Durins on 12th Dec. . ._ ** "  
  
  
He winced, painfully. It had been a month ago but the agony was imprinted upon him for eternity to last.  
  
  
Thorin continued to walk forward  before he finally ceased walking at a bus stop. He sat in waiting. _For what?_ He did not know.  
  
  
_How did things come to be this way?_ He mused wearily, _when did I start going so wrong?_  
  
  
Thorin Durin, unlike many firstborns, was a rebel without a cause. He disliked the Elite culture and had no problem of showing it publicly or privately so when he was pushed into studying Business to inherit the company. He had thrown a big tiff, more like a mini volcano.  
  
  
Yet, Thráin Durin, his father and head of Erebor, did not care for a word and sent him directly to complete his bachelor's degree.  
  
  
Where Thorin met Azog De Filer. The De Filer's were top on the list of rivalling companies to Erebor which sparked a flame in Thorin. In a move to get even with his father, Thorin befriended Azog and his group of well, whatevers.  
  
  
Eventually, that led to him dating Azog who was, mind you, in most eloquent terms, an arsehole.  
  
  
Azog crept into Thorin's life like an ivy vine, an unnecessary addition to enrage his father. While that job was better done than said, the then heir of the Erebor company began seeing Azog as a friend which was just the beginning of all troubles.  
  
  
He sowed seeds of dislike, bitterness and sharp edges in Thorin against his own family and his relations with his siblings, Dís and Frerin.  
  
  
' _You're not the brother I used to know._ ' He could feel the broken tone in Frerin's voice as his younger sibling took a step away from him.  
  
  
Things grew even worse when Thráin announced his engagement with another family to strengthen the relations in business.  
  
  
' _Thorin, please, stop._ ' He remembered Dís holding his arm back, preventing him from leaving the house, she did not cry though. You see the Durins were made of odd stuff, they never yielded to tears. Almost made of stone the whole lot of them it seemed.  
  
  
And then he, in his irrationality, merely just took Azog and went away vacationing to the Maldives as a statement against his father's. It was during this time, Freya Durin, mother of Thorin, Frerin and Dís Durin, took her last breath with regret of not seeing her eldest son before passing away. The only person who could regulate both Thorin and his father's ire was gone.  
  
  
By the time he returned, the funeral was done with and the body was laid down to rest.  
  
  
' _You could've called me, I was her son for fuck's sake!_ ' He screamed at the members of his household. And even when Dwalin, his closest friend, could not meet his eye more or less out of disgust and revulsion, Thorin took a step back in puzzlement.  
  
  
For the first time, Thorin felt something had gone wrong.  
  
  
' _Son?_ ' Thráin questioned, critically, accompanied by a morbid chuckle, ' _You call yourself a son of hers?_ '  
  
  
Thorin remained silent as an answer if it was one.  
  
  
' _Well, now that she is dead, she has no son... ._ ' Thráin said, in a voice quiet as the entire Durin clan watched in pedantic silence, ' _. . .Neither do I except for Frerin._ '  
  
  
The declaration reeked behind his father's face was silent, the kind that you could not argue against, an imprint on stone likewise. So Thorin went over to Azog's and stayed at his place as his credit card, inheritance, family was taken away from him without a word short.  
  
  
The most crucial blow to his senses, however, came when he came home to to his belongings being thrown out. Thorin came to learn that Azog had wrongly accused him of cheating with some man at a cheap  bar. While in actuality Azog had been secretly involved with Smaug. Someone who had once wronged Thráin and had received a jaw breaking response of the same.  
  
  
Thorin was reduced to the level of dishwasher at a rundown restaurant. Things couldn't work out there due to his high maintenance issues. He was ridiculed and mocked by a few and was treated as the same but he was nothing. His net worth couldn’t be searched for on Google neither could he check his bank balance without a shred of misery.

 

His bridges were burnt mercilessly and oh, what a fire it burnt with.  
  
  
Thorin wandered aimlessly, did odd jobs for a day to fill the food ration for the next day until he accidentally came across the Durin manor from afar. It was like a dream above the rest, a song left forgotten. Even Thorin did not know how he found within himself to turn away with hooded eyes and walk the opposite direction before muttering,  
  
  
'Fare you well.'  
  
  
And now he sat abandoned at the station with a soul gone cold and the fire in his heart grown dim. His forlorn was probably pitiable but he deserved it and even Thorin knew that.  
  
  
Thorin had been forsaken by all.  
  
  
Even by himself.  
  
  
These thoughts, of course, made him liable to not notice the arrival of the bus as the bus driver put his head out of the window. 'Hey you! Don't you have to get on now, mister?'  
  
  
Thorin blinked, well, not like there was anything here to stay for. Nothing seemed compelling. Therefore, he got onto the bus. Hoping the little money he had would be enough for the fare..  
  
  
'Where to?'  
  
  
'The farthest away from here in your limits.'  
  
  
'Aye, that be the Shire.' The grey haired man mused.  
  
  
Thorin hummed in agreement, staring out of the window and never once looking back.  
  
  
| - - - - |  
  
  
The Shire was a place of healing although not explicitly stated. It was a small county at the south east of England. Untouched by misery and brought joy and merry to whoever it gave shelter. In the first few days of his stay in the Shire Thorin went on with working odd jobs.  
  
  
They were kinder, his employers, albeit a little suspicious but after a few months that winded it down.  
  
  
He tried to help as much as he could for those who were in need of it and about the payment for his services. Thorin never asked a penny, just left right after the work was done with. Every night he would sleep upon the church door and was eventually noticed by the father who practiced teaching and held masses. He had been given clean clothes and a bath once a day with food three times. Father Mason thought the soul to be lost. _Lost to what?_ He did not know.  
  
  
That was until there was this one evening along the edges of a midsummer night that the residents of the Shire hosted a party which was basically a celebration for a small army. Thorin had idly sitting down on a bench. Wallowing like usual.    
  
  
His eyes set upon the corner where he found a lone guitar kept aside right next to the stage where orchestra had been. _Was it abandoned?_ He thought, moving onto his feet before he could realize.  
  
  
So when he began playing the guitar, he had no intention of playing it in company. It was only when it eerily quietened down did he realize that something was off. Looking up, Thorin saw an entire third of the Shire population staring at him in awe and a round of clapping and cheers were asserted.  
  
  
'Oh I know him.' Hamfast Gamgee had pointed out, animatedly.  'He was the one who fixed my door. Why, thank you!'  
  
  
Thorin awkwardly sat with the guitar in his hand, confused as the crowd that stare at him. Wondering exactly what they expected him to do.  
  
  
'Well, don't just sit there.' A man shouted from somewhere close  in the gathering, 'Play us a merry tune, my friend!'  
  
  
That was all Thorin remembered before it became a custom that every Saturday evening, in front of St. Paul's church, Thorin would play for them all.  
  
  
Some would dance, some would sing along a tune to dedicate to their loved ones, rest would merely listen. He decided to open a small charity box and donate to the church in the Sunday morning mass.  
  
  
'You're a kind soul, Thorin.' The father wearing his robes had once said to Thorin.  
  
  
'I try.' Thorin replied, exhaustion of another kind visible in his eyes.  
  
  
When leaving the church his sight tumbled upon the crucifix at the altar.  
  
  
A reminder almost of reality, such a vacancy in his soul. It reminded him no matter what he does, what he gives, how hard he strives, it does not change his worth.  
  
  
_Like sand, everything slips away from the gaps of my hands._  
  
  
Thorin felt void. He spared one last look at the crucifix before walking out of the homely, white church.  
  
  
'Father Mason, who was he?' A nun from the convent asked.  
  
  
The priest smiled, half-heartedly. 'A lost soul, sister Meredith. A lost soul.'  
  
  
| - - - - |  
  
  
The Shire pub was really quite the opposite of what Thorin thought it would be. Well, considering that the Shire folk were always so prone to looking 'respectable', he had assumed that drinking would be a shy affair.

 

Erroneously, he had underestimated.  
  
  
A glass went flying to Thorin's direction as he narrowly dodged it. Yep, definitely underestimated the whole lot of them. _Bloody hell,_ Thorin chuckled silently as he watched reputable and virtuous men and women of higher standing turn into wild, frivolous teenagers. Not giving a single bother to what occurred within the walls of the pub.  
  
  
Thorin had drunk enough alcohol to shove manners out of the window. But at least had the wits to know that he better return to his apartment before he made an utter fool of himself. Or worse got into a fist fight.  
  
  
And while he tried moving across the pub, he collided with someone, painfully. 'Watch where you're going.' He growled at the stranger who blinked twice at him before standing at his full height which was still a head shorter than Thorin.  
  
  
'What? You're the one who bumped into me.'  
  
  
'I most certainly did not.'  
  
  
'Could've fooled me. Just because you're a giant does not mean you can trample down those who aren't.'  
  
  
'Really?' Thorin asked, towering the man in attempt of intimidation as he looked down upon the man. 'Goodness, not only are you short for the Shire standards but you're also tiny.' Which was supposed to have been a silent thought but the other man heard it anyway.  
  
  
'T-Tiny?' The man sputtered in indignation making Thorin smirk.  
  
  
'I'll have you known that this tiny man juggles sharks like you for breakfast.'  
  
  
'Oh, now, can you?' Thorin said, mockery being the tone, 'But you seem so squishy.'  
  
  
'Squi- what? How dare you-' The man stuttered out, offended thoroughly before putting on a determined glare and taking out an unopened plastic water bottle.  
  
  
If Thorin had to be honest, he would say that he expected the man to throw it at him but no. That was not what happened. The man took the bottle and literally chucked it at a random direction and that was not the part that made Thorin more cautious.  
  
  
It was the part when the little man scurried away as if he had a tail between his legs. Thorin turned to see another woman fuming who threw the bottle at his direction. Of course, Thorin ducked but that made it fall upon another patron and the next thing he knew was that the entire pub had been turned into a full-fledged fight.  
  
  
How he got out of the damned place was most likely a wonder to Thorin himself. Yet, he had. Almost injured but still alive.  
  
  
_The nerve of that little nutter,_ He cursed to whichever force watching him.  
  
  
When he reached his small apartment that had been furnished well enough, he collapsed on his bed almost immediately. That night he dreamt of chocolate brown eyes and flower crowns.  
  
  
Next morning, Thorin woke up with a headache and did what he did best to deal with it. Ignoring. When he stepped out of his house, he noticed something on his doorstep.  
  
  
It was an edition of the most recent of the _‘People’_  magazine.  
  
  
Thorin almost forgot to breathe.  
  
  
" **Happily engaged - Azog De Filer & Smaug Serpens.**"  
  
  
A proud smile on Azog's scarred face which Thorin had gratuitously given him with Smaug, who had a smirk engraved which made his blood boil. Oh, and there was a card with a small note.  
  
  
'Pity you couldn't make it. Your wishes are greatly missed. We would have been thrilled to have you in our engagement though  
  
  
\- With love, Azog.'  
  
  
The note was lined with royal blue and silver linings.  
  
  
Thorin narrowed his eyes at the audacity and growled as at the designs used in the card. Royal blue was a colour incurred among the Durin's and that rat-  
  
  
_But you're not a Durin._  
  
  
With that thought he threw the invitation to a distant corner of his room. Oh, he'd send them his wishes.  
  
  
He stormed out in glowing rage that washed in waves off him and would put gamma radiations to shame. He ventured to the florist shop downtown. _Perfectly reasonable pricing,_ Thorin had heard as he marched into the shop with wrath.  
  
  
He took out 20 pounds and smashed the notes on the counter, 'How does one say 'fuck you and your reptilian husband' in flower?' Thorin demanded more or less.  
  
  
He heard a chuckle as a response.  
  
  
'With that amount of poison, you might as well just send them a bunch of Belladonna.'  
  
The florist turned around to greet Thorin with a smile before he actually saw him and twisted his lips in a frown.  
  
  
'You!' The same man from the pub pointed a finger at Thorin.  
  
  
'Tiny?'  
  
  
Clearly, that was not the wisest thing to say. Since it earned Thorin a yellow coloured pocket notebook to be thrown right at his face which he majestically dodged.  
  
  
_What the heck is it with people. . ._ Thorin wondered,   _and throwing things at me?_  
  
  
The florist looked aggrieved, 'Call me that and I'll toss a hammer at you the next time.'  
  
  
'You created a pretty big scene yesterday at the bar. All for me just calling you-'  
  
  
'Don't-"  
  
  
'-Tiny.'  
  
  
'You-'  
  
  
'You do quite know that you're not being very professional now, right?'  
  
  
The florist took a deep breath, almost as if he was bracing himself to deal with the relentless stupidity of a wayward relative. 'Bilbo Baggins at your service.'  
  
  
Thorin smirked, delightfully.  
  
  
'Right. . . so, fuck you and your reptilian husband ?' Bilbo asked, confused.  
  
  
Thorin blinked before understanding. Well, his temper was gone now. What was the use of sending Azog anything? It would merely show that his barbs had actually affected him which even if it did. Thorin wished not for Azog to know that in satisfaction.  
  
  
'No, it's nothing, now. . .I should leave.'  
  
  
And before the other man could comprehend, he left the shop. Which was probably a rude gesture. It was on impulse, really because Thorin never thought before doing something.  
  
  
Old habits die hard he supposed.

| - - - - |  
  
The next time he saw Bilbo was when he was yet again playing on another Saturday evening. It had been totally by fluke, Bilbo was probably coming back from grocery shopping with the amount of bags he was carrying. Then, for moment shorter, their gazes collided.  
  
Bilbo had been sharp-eyed when he his glance met his own but slowly, the edges of his glare softened as if. . .  
  
_As if he saw something in my eyes,_ Thorin mused.  
  
Following that many  weeks later, he did not see Bilbo and the matter was shoved to the back of his mind. He continued working odd jobs before he finally found a permanent one at a rundown restaurant which required him to play the harp.  
  
Because in a long time, he felt home calling out to him when he began playing the harp.  
  
In the Durin family, there were many traditions. One such was learning an instrument while growing up, he did not know why he chose the harp really but he guessed it was for his mother.

When Thorin was but a child, his mother always told him tales and it was this one tale his mother had told that caused him to take the harp. 

The story was of a king of carven stone with his odd company of fourteen. Said king apparently was learnt in playing the harp.  
  
Not like Thorin wished to impersonate him but when he saw the shine in his mother's eyes when she looked upon the harp. He knew. That was it.  
  
Thorin 's job was quite a pleasant one. It seemed as if everything was falling back into place. Every now and then he would recall his past and always he felt the shuttering need to wonder just why had he become someone he was not to defy his father.  
  
_I had become so blind,_ Thorin thought to himself every night.  
  
It was one such night that he was invited to the Gamgee's, for another party that did not really make sense to him but then again. This was the Shire. One does not simply have a reason to not host a party.  
  
For once, he was not playing an instrument and found himself enjoying the sweets and delicacies of Mrs. Gamgee. That is until he was pushed to dancing which he reluctantly agreed to. It was rude to refuse a request by the host. Meanwhile, he had finally made the decision of cutting his hair and trimming his beard. It almost felt as if he was trying to cut away whatever that reminded him of his family. Ex-family.  
  
Thorin danced with a few girls before swearing to himself in the name of God that this was going to be his last dance. The partners switched catching him unaware.  
  
And then all he saw was bright brown eyes looking closely into his own. Bilbo seemed equally surprised as Thorin but began to move in sync with him as the music began.  
  
'Forgive me, Mister Baggins.'  
  
Bilbo shot his head up surprised, willing himself not to drown in those ocean eyes. 'Why?'  
  
'I shouldn't have insulted you regarding your physique.'  
  
That shocked him even more so. Bilbo Baggins did not know quite what to make of Thorin. When he had first heard of the musician, he wished to meet him but after the pub scene, everything just went south. Although, deep down he probably knew that Thorin never meant ill will, the man did not seem like it. In fact, it was far cry from it.  
  
What Bilbo saw in him was a broken person.  
  
Mind you, he was not a hospital and even _his_ empathy knew a fine line. Yet, that one time, Thorin just looked so vulnerable as he played the guitar. It felt like he was bleeding, under the pale moonlight and Bilbo's heart sunk to the depths of those glacial waters in his eyes.  
  
_What could trouble a man so far and wide?_  
  
Bilbo had been alone for a long time and was plenty fine with carrying on to do so. Yet, every night when the stars shined on the skies, he remembered Thorin's pain.  
  
It almost reminded himself of the time when his parents died on the plane crash. He had been in university and the pain was too much for his gentle heart.  
  
So he took things to subdue them, to numb the feelings.  
  
Three months later, he was hospitalized due to getting into a car accident in one of his 'high' moments. When the doctors tested his blood, it was swimming with drugs and an unhealthy percentage of alcohol.  
  
Needless to say, he had come very close to dying.  
  
The second he would be alone, he would feel the pull. He had his friends, the only reason he was still alive. People like Hamfast, Drogo and all were a blessing in disguise. The drug withdrawal was so hard. So so hard. Memories of his parents always waterlogged his head and would automatically turn the faucet of his eyes.  
  
' _Bilbo, please don't. . . don't do this to yourself._ ' Hamfast begged him, tears running down his chin, while Bilbo looked away.  
  
It's not easy, it's not easy facing the truth, especially the dead.  
  
' _Don't lose yourself to this, Bil._ '  
  
Depression. That what the doctors clinically diagnosed him with. Binding his feelings to that word. Until one day, insight snapped inside him. Good lord, what had he been doing? Shock gathered his wits as he just left the centre and went back home to Bag End that reeked of his parents.  
  
It would be hard, he knew, it would be terribly hard.  
  
But he also knew he would get through.  
  
_Because what does one do when faced with death?_ _  
_ _  
_ _You go on living._  
  
Taking comfort from the words, he went on living for a good long time.  
  
After all, nothing heals the past like time.  
  
But now when he looked at Thorin, he could not help but think of how similar the feeling was.  
  
'Well,' He said considering the blue eyed man's apology. 'It's alright. I wasn't my best self either. I'm sorry.'  
  
'It's alright.' Thorin nodded.  
  
'So does this mean I'm better than the person with a reptilian husband?'  
  
Thorin laughed, deep rumbles down his chest, 'Indefinitely, I hate that man to the point that if I had twenty-four gallons of water and he was dying out of thirst, I would water the desert.'  
  
'You're cruel, Mister Oakenshield.'  
  
'Hardly.' The man grumbled. 'Call me Thorin.'  
  
'Only if you call me Bilbo.'  
  
'Stubborn.'  
  
'Oh would you look at the pot calling the kettle black?'  
  
'When was I ever stubborn with you?'  
  
'Who do you think collided with me and refused to admit it?'  
  
'I most certainly did not-'  
  
'Did.'  
  
'Did not.'  
  
'Did.'  
  
Thorin tightened his grip on Bilbo's waist as he tugged him closer, clasping his hand ever so gently. 'You were looking at the person behind me when you were walking.' He whispered into Bilbo's ear as the man widened his eyes.  
  
'I. . .fine.' He huffed, 'T'was me. Sorry.'  
  
'You should have just come clean.' Thorin chidded.  
  
'Hmph.'  
  
'Either way, I don't think we have been properly introduced.' Bilbo looked up to him in questioning to his statement.  
  
'Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield. I'm honoured to be at your service.' He smiled at Bilbo in his arms, who took a while but beamed back fondly.  
  
'Bilbo Baggins, the honour is all mine.'  
  
And then was born a friendship strong like the ones carved on stone and yet has gentle as the flowers of spring.  
  
The winds brushed Thorin's arm as he continued to lead the dance in silence. Rhythmically, the music changed to a tune of a quiet melody that twirled in the winds they danced to.  
  
Bilbo's hand slid down from Thorin's shoulder to his chest, a move that made the latter look down to him as he lifted his head up.  
  
'That day. By the church, what did you see in me?'  
  
Thorin 's question spoken softly made him take a deep sigh, inhaling the other's scent along.  
  
'A lot of things to be honest.'  
  
'The most prominent of them all being?'  
  
Bilbo looked at him in uncertainty, something which he did not quite understand until he spoke the following words.  
  
'You truly want to know?'  
  
'Yes.' Thorin breathed out.  
  
'In your eyes that night,' Bilbo looked up as his gaze spoke in truth.  
  
'I had seen a man fallen from grace and a soul that's lost its way.'  
  
|- - - -|  
  
After that one meeting, Thorin no longer knew what to do with himself. He avoided Bilbo. Like the damn fucking Bubonic plague. He really did and was pretty successful in his endeavour.  
  
Truthfully, he did not want to face a man who could read past his poker face that well. That terrified Thorin. He had not a company for so long and refused to let go of the only one he had. If Bilbo were to know of Thorin's past, his heritage more elementally, his character, he was bound to leave him.  
  
It was inevitable.  
  
The fear gnawed at him every time he saw Bilbo. Avoiding him deemed to be a necessity for Thorin needed to figure out how to handle this.  
  
That lasted well until one day he realized it was his mother's birthday.  
  
Needless to say, he could not handle it. Everything, every emotion he had garnered to stay shut, every single possibility that could have happened if he wasn't so arrogant broke down on him like a mountain weighed in his shoulders.   
  
And it did not take him a long time to convert regret into anger. Especially when he was three bottles down.  
  
He destroyed every non living object that could be destroyed in his apartment and made an utter mess of himself. Thorin slid against the wall, helplessly as his hand bled with the glass pieces of a bottle still intact on the skin.  
  
He really was pathetic, wasn't he?  
  
This was exactly the way Bilbo found him that very evening. Quite by accident. He had come to greet a good friend of his living in the same apartment and had been told that Thorin lived a few doors away. Bilbo decided to just drop by because the other man had so ardently been avoiding him, but when he saw the door already unlocked he grew mildly suspicious.  
  
'Thorin!' He ran over to the side of his friend and winced painfully at the sight of a small pool of blood. Bilbo looked around and doubted that there would be any first-aid kit here. The one in his house would be a better choice of option.  
  
'What in the name of God-'  
  
'Why are you here?' Thorin snapped.  
  
'Because,' Bilbo said, exasperatedly, 'I've been bloody worried of your well-being. Thorin, the hell is wrong with you?'  
  
'Fuck off.'  
  
'I won't. Now, just get up will you?'  
  
'Why are you helping me?' Thorin narrowed his eyes.  
  
'Well, I'm your fuckin' friend, Thorin. Get up!' Bilbo took his arm and put it across his shoulder to pick the man up.  
  
'Friend?' Thorin chuckled as he pulled his arm back as he pushed Bilbo against the wall. 'What if I hurt you real, real bad right now? Would you go away only then?'  
  
Bilbo looked into his wild blue eyes. Like really looked into his eyes. In there Bilbo found method in his madness, in there lay a man with a broken soul, in there lay a person with a forgotten. Above all, in there lay a person who was his _friend_ .  
  
'No, Thorin. I am going to stay here with you.'  
  
Thorin 's eyes hardened, his hand curled up in a fist as Bilbo braced himself, staring fiercely at the blue eyed man. The punch did not land on him though, it landed on the space of wall next to him.  
  
Thorin buried his head on the curve of Bilbo's neck, 'I have lost my identity. I have lost my family. They have disowned me. The most important people in my life. Friends. Everything I have lost because I was arrogant. I have nothing. Nothing to offer.'  
  
A pause ensured.  
  
'Why would you stay with me?'  
  
Thorin felt a hand tenderly stroking his head, 'Because you're my friend.' Bilbo whispered.  
  
'Thorin, let it out. Scream your regrets out to me.'  
  
And that was the first time Thorin had ever cried, he wailed as tears wet Bilbo's shoulder. ' _You can always reclaim your crown._ '  
  
'It's going to be alright.'  
  
'I am right here.'  
  
After words spoken, he took Thorin home. Bandaged him and put him to bed. Thorin needed to heal. Bilbo wanted to help him. Who knew where this would lead them but they were here right now.  
  
That was all that mattered.  
  
| - - - - |  
  
'And this?'  
  
'That. Thorin, please keep that down. That's called Datura. It may look pretty but it's just another name for nightshade. Every part of the flower is poisonous.'  
  
'The heck do you have it for then?'  
  
'I actually don't know.' Bilbo said, prying the flower out of his hand and wrapping the bundle up. 'Normally, Mister Greybeard would not have a miscalculation in the orders of flowers but somehow this just ended up with the whole lot.'  
  
'I thought you grew most of your flowers.'  
  
'I do but a few are exported by Mister Greybeard.'  
  
'Why would people need a Datura then? If it's poisonous?'  
  
'To get high.'  
  
Thorin gave him an unimpressed look.  
  
'What? I'm legit serious. The nightshade, if boiled with water and made a broth out of, can literally be capable of making you unaware of reality.' Bilbo wrinkled his nose as he continued, 'It completely cuts off your senses. Truly, I've heard nasty stuff about that flower.'   
  
'Interesting.'  Thorin shrugged.  
  
Bilbo smiled. It had been more than a few months since that incident in Thorin's apartment. The right next morning, he begged for Bilbo's apology, who merely shrugged it off and offered him a job at the shop instead.  
  
Things were getting out of hand as of late. Bilbo needed an assistant and he merely suggested and Thorin readily took it. In the morning, till mid- afternoon would help Bilbo while the nights would be reserved for playing the harp in the restaurant. Although, Bilbo paid him, he insisted that Thorin stayed at his own place that was large enough for five at a time.  
  
Thorin did not refuse.  
  
He told Bilbo everything. About his family, his past and Azog ( _'Oh so that's the man with the reptilian husband' Bilbo had mused, thoughtfully._ ) Although he left out one important detail.  
  
Which was his name.  
  
Bilbo did not know he was a Durin and neither did Thorin see reason to tell him.  
  
Meanwhile, Bilbo had told him about his own tragedies. One which Thorin listened to with great concern.  It was not like Bilbo had a choice, really, he woke up late in night, screaming. Panic attacks were more or less random. He still could not look at white powder or syringes and not feel the trigger.  
  
Whenever this happened, Thorin would hold him. Always. Even in his worst tantrums, he would always be patient and would calm him down.  
  
It felt like healing.  
  
They helped each other stand on their feet. Helped each other to grow and learn.  
  
To many, their relationship was anything but platonic. Truly? With that amount of adoration? No, dear, that was love.  
  
Like this one time, a man, Robin his name was, tried to touch Bilbo with an inappropriate, underlying motive. No one really heard of him after that day.  
  
Good God knows what happened.  
  
'What do you think happened to him?' Bilbo asked, slightly concerned.  
  
'Who knows.' Thorin answered, sharpening the blunt knives ruthlessly, 'Dinner?'  
  
And this another time when Lobelia dropped by and had insulted Thorin. She came out of the shop with her dress entirely dripping wet with mud water and leaves.  
  
She went home cursing Bilbo Baggins rather loudly.  
  
'That was unnecessary.'  
  
'Like Robin?'  
  
Thorin kept his mouth shut.  
  
Of course, the entire Shire was aware of the affection they held for each other and its depth. Most of them had made up ship names like Thilbo or Bagginshield but did Thorin and Bilbo know?  
  
No. Both of them were oblivious to how severely in love with each other they were.  
  
'Like utter idiots.' Drogo had once commented, Gamgee and Primula silently agreed.  
  
None dared to voice their opinion out to the two though because it was not their business to interfere in. That's what everyone told themselves.  
  
However, there was one person who was brave enough, Bilbo's close friend, in fact he considered him family.  
  
'And this friend of yours is gonna stay here for a few days?'  
  
'Uh yeah. He's lovely, you'd like him, I think.'  
  
Thorin rose a sharp brow, 'Alright, we'll see.'  
  
And there was a knock at the door as Bilbo jumped up and ran to open it with Thorin trailed behind, unimpressed or rather jealous it would seem.  
  
As soon as the door unbolted, Bilbo let him in and that's when Thorin's jaw met the ground.  
  
For in all his Gucci glory stood Thranduil Oropherion, CEO of the Greenwood enterprises.  
  
Christ help him.


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin took out 20 pounds and smashed the notes on the counter, 'How does one say 'fuck you and your reptilian husband' in flower?' He demanded more or less.
> 
>  
> 
> He heard a chuckle as a response.
> 
>  
> 
> 'With that amount of poison, you might as well just send them a bunch of Belladonna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I am not a good writer or a story teller, I'm just here for a beer and a good time. However, I will try my best to meet your standards.

|- - - -|

Thranduil Oropherion might have been a lot of things. Snarky. Venomous. Vain. Disturbingly divine looking.  
  
But. . .but _lovely?_  
  
He was not.  
  
At least not according to Thorin. Rivalry with Thranduil went way back to high-school. Thorin was second to Thranduil in academics and that burnt him regularly. Thorin made up for it in athletics as both of them were potentially excellent runners. Where he would always defeat Thranduil in every single race.  
  
Their families were not even in the same business yet they greatly disliked each other. However, both were  English elite families which meant diplomacy in every step. Basically covering bitterness with fake, biting sincerities.  
  
If a few years ago, someone had told  Thorin that he would be dining with Thranduil Oropherion of all people. He would have chuckled and then thrown a brick at the person for suggesting such awful nuisance.  
  
_Fate,_ Thorin mused, _has a cruel way of proving one wrong way._  
  
'I don't intend to be rude. . .but have you known each other?' Bilbo asked as they settled down for dinner, staring daggers, swords and bullets at the other.  
  
'No.' Thorin answered, point blank. 'Never met him in my life before.'  
  
'Of course.' Thranduil returned pointedly, 'My sincere condolences though. It must have been a sad sight of world all this while.'  
  
'You think unnecessarily highly of yourself, Mister Oropherion.'  
  
'Thranduil, please.' The silky haired man stated, 'And thank you for I do think highly of myself. Good God though, I didn't think it was in  your capacity to observe.'  
  
'If that's the case then you must be at a heavy loss to sit down with commoners for a meal.' Thorin narrowed his tone to sticking out with barbs.  
  
'Enough!' Bilbo waved his hand, dismissively. 'Play well, both of you.' while he muttered to himself 'could've just told me yes instead.'  
  
Thorin turned towards Bilbo, 'How did you even meet him?' as he continued to eat while Thranduil stiffened his hold upon the knife and closely noted Bilbo's reaction.  
  
'Remember the car crash I got into when I was a drug addict?'  
  
Thorin winced but nodded. 'That was his car. Luckily, Thran wasn't injured just a few minor injuries.'  
  
'Yeah, sad that. He's stubborn to the will of death.'  
  
'Thorin Oakenshield! He helped me through my depression. You would do well to respect him for I owe him my life. Please apologise.' Bilbo chided, looking miffed.  
  
'I am patient. I can wait.' Thranduil diligently added.  
  
'Thran.' Bilbo warned, narrowing his eyes.  
  
Thranduil expected Thorin to cut his tongue out rather to ask forgiveness. Though as the black haired man glared deeply at him and when he sighed, the CEO merely cocked his head to the side in ambiguity.  
  
'My apologies. It wasn't polite of me to insult since you've helped Bilbo in his sufferings.'  
  
Of course, Thranduil's jaw did not drop. He was Thranduil Oropherion for Christ's sake, he did not _do_ jaw droppings. Yet, he was astonished. He wondered how Thorin came to be like this, the last time he checked Thorin was insolent, impulsive and abrasive bastard. Oh he had heard of the disownment, who hadn't? He had not expected the old Durin to actually put up public statement. 

Yet, then again, it ran in the Durin blood to be foolhardy in a whirlwind of emotions.  
  
He had also heard of the rendezvousing with Azog that led Thorin to missing his mother's funeral, or something along those lines.  
  
_It was scandalous._ He remembered his father Oropher telling him about it.  
  
So just how did Thorin Durin or Oakenshield or whatever end up in the Shire of all places?  
  
With Bilbo of all people?  
  
Was Thranduil's world just growing smaller by the day?  
  
'It is alright I suppose.' He cooly stated.  
  
Bilbo smiled but then frowned upon noticing that he left the jar of water unfilled in the kitchen, 'Oh dear. Do excuse me for a moment? And please don't burn the table down by the time I return.'  
  
Thorin shrugged as Thranduil rolled his eyes.  
  
Almost as soon as Bilbo was out of sight, 'What is your motive with Bilbo?'  
  
'I do not have one.' Thorin replied, the tone of a rock still visible.  
  
'The last time I recall you telling that, two people ended up in the hospital with major injuries.'  
  
'That was a fun night.' Thorin remembered, fondly.  
  
'Regardless, I warn you.' Thranduil's gaze sharpened as it met his. 'I will not take lightly to Bilbo being hurt an inch by you. Directly or indirectly.'  
  
'I would never hurt him.'  
  
Thranduil contemplated the man in front of him who looked genuinely fierce in his declaration. _Oh great._ This oaf was in love with Bilbo. Why was his world so terribly small again? But the question remained, _did Bilbo return the sentiments?_  
  
Thranduil found himself bitterly hoping  negatively.  
  
'Erebor is faring well, if you wished to know.'  
  
'And why would I want to know that?' Thorin raised a brow, 'I am disowned, Thranduil. I have no connections with them.'  
  
'There was a time I would pay several thousand pounds only to listen to a Durin say that.' Thranduil said, wryly.  
  
'There was a time I would pay severely to make sure you never exist, Thranduil. Yet here we are.'  
  
'Touché. You hurt my sentiments.'  
  
'You have sentiments?' Thorin looked frankly shocked, Thranduil waved it  off rather rudely.  
  
'On an entirely different note, why haven't you told Bilbo of your-'  
  
'He knows. About disownment and everything-'  
  
'-and?'  
  
'Just doesn't know that I was Durin.'  
  
'How convenient.' Thranduil mused. 'Also-'  
  
'-You're being awfully chatty.'  
  
'It is a night of surprises, Thorin. Keep up.' He sneered.  
  
'What is it?'  
  
'Oh and _Oakenshield?_ ' Thranduil raised a brow at the name. Could've kept Walter or Armitage or whatever but no, this dramatic troll went straight for a Celtic tribe name.  
  
'Speak for yourself, _Oropherion_ .'  
  
Thranduil looked like he was going to reply but Bilbo had finally returned, which caused him to school his  expressions 'You both were civil.'  
  
'Unquestionably.' Both of them beamed radiantly as Bilbo tilt his head suspiciously.  
  
'Shall we?' Thorin said, indicating towards the food that was growing cold.  
  
| - - - - |  
  
'Oh shut up.' Thranduil rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time.  
  
Bard Bowman schooled his expressions only to fall into laughter all over again, 'What now? It is amusing.'  
  
'Amusing? Of course, I tend to forget that you describe lunacy with amusing.'  
  
'And you with beautiful.' Bard chuckled wrapping his arms around Thranduil who raised a questioning brow.  
  
'Bard. If you don't let go now. I will sack your company.'  
  
'You wouldn't.' Bard replied, nuzzling his lover's neck.  
  
'Your confidence is overwhelming.' Thranduil drawled.  
  
'You like it.'  
  
'Bard.'  
  
'Tch.' Bard removed himself from before giving him an arched brow. 'What?'  
  
'You don't understand. They are so in love that it makes me feel like Christmas.'  
  
At the comparison, Bard rose an amused brow because that was a big thing. To drag Thranduil out of his _I-am-so-done-with-everyone_ mood was a difficult but an honourable achievement.  
  
'You don't believe me. Fine then just sit down and try to enact what I do.'  
  
'And what is that?'  
  
Thranduil smiled, imperiously, 'Observe.'  
  
Bard shrugged and settled down on the table. He had arrived the day before and had gone straight to bed, weary from travels. Bilbo was an intimate friend of Thranduil and they visited him at least several times a year. Apparently, Thorin Durin ( _Uh well Oakenshield now it would seem_ ) was in their company. 

 

He hadn't talked much to him during highschool days, being Thranduil's boyfriend sort of called for it.  
  
About just now Thranduil had been convincing Bard of the relationship between Bilbo and Thorin. Which not only did the owner of Dale Co-operations find it odd but difficult to believe.  
  
Like this was _Thorin, Thorin Durin,_ disowned or not, it was an unlikely concept for him.  
  
Leaving this aside, Bard felt nice to be back.  
  
It was a fine place, the Shire. It felt good to get off the burden of work and peer pressures for a while away with Thranduil.  
  
He looked at his dearest, smiling to himself in gratefulness. He did not know how he found a man like him but he was glad. Many might say Thranduil was not the best choice for a lover but Bard's heart naturally went with the blond man.  
  
'What is it?' Thranduil asked, upon noticing his stare.  
  
'Have you ever been told how rare and beautiful you are?'  
  
The wrinkles on Thranduil's forehead disappeared before he broke eye contact and looked away, 'Do not tell things like that so abruptly.'  
  
However, that didn't explain why the CEO of Greenwood Enterprises slid his hand into Bard's and gave it a little squeeze. Bard smiled affectionately at him before they heard heavy footsteps.  
  
'Observe.' Thranduil instructed, pointedly.  
  
Bard leaned back on the chair he was sitting as Bilbo continued to cooking breakfast and Thorin walked into the kitchen. 'Morning.'  He greeted Bilbo, who smiled in response, 'Good morning to you too.'  
  
_This was just how friends interact_ , Bard thought, sceptically, pouring himself a glass of water. Failing to understand what Thranduil saw that symbolize even a little bit close lovebirds.  
  
And then that happened.  
  
Casually, Thorin went over to Bilbo's side, wrapping his arms around the smaller man's waist, 'What are you making?'  
  
Bard's jaw slackened, choking on the water he was drinking meanwhile. _You're kidding me_ . He looked for signs of disapproval from Bilbo none came instead a giggle sounded.  
  
'Pancakes.'  
  
'Mhmm.' Thorin nuzzled into Bilbo's curls. 'You need help?'  
  
Bilbo turned swiftly after flipping the pancake only to put his hands on Thorin's chest. Smiling radiantly at him, 'Well, no I suppose. Why don't you go sit with Thranduil and Bard?'  
  
'Alright. Join us quick, will you?'  
  
'Yeah. Okay, go now.' Bilbo pushed him by the hip as Thorin smiled tenderly at him and left the kitchen to sit with them.  
  
'Are you alright?' Bard took a while to realize Thorin's question was directed towards himself.  
  
'Um yeah. I mean yes.'  
  
'Are you sure, Bard my love? You look like you've been proven wrong by an unseen force.' Thranduil said in white concern and a smile that did not suit his words.  
  
Bard glared at him and Thorin just rose his eyebrows before shaking his head dismissively.  
  
The entire breakfast proceeded in Bilbo and Thorin exchanging words fluently as he offered to do the dishes for the former. Bard coughed multiple times in vain. More like choked but alright. 

 

They were in love. Anyone could feel that. See it. Testify for it. 'Well, fine I concede to your point. But now what?' Bard groaned in dismay.  
  
'I was hoping to lend them an eye-opener.'  
  
Bard blinked before processing the words.  
  
'Why?! Thranduil, if they are living in a nice bubble, what makes it your business to poke around?'  
  
'Because otherwise they would never know.'  
  
'In which I don't see a fault in.'  
  
'I can't do that to Bilbo. I don't like keeping things away from him.' Thranduil said lifting his striking blue eyes towards Bard. The latter knew what this - emotional blackmail.  
  
Sometimes, it shocked Bard how quickly Thranduil could be from going to looking like a  high end diva to an innocent pup.  
  
'Also, I have been lacking zest in my life as of late.' That made him straighten and gaze incredulously at Thranduil.  
  
'Are you _serious_? You want to confront them about their personal life because you want entertainment? Do you trust Thorin with Bilbo? Is he right for him?’

 

Thranduil looked conflicted for a brief moment, 'It is not  up to me to decide who is right for Bilbo. That is his own decisions. I will always be there  however. So far as trusting Thorin goes. . .’ He took a deep breath, 'I do trust him, at least on this matter.'

Bard looked astonished at the admission. Thranduil had thought this through. It wasn't on a whim. But then there were hardly things Thranduil did arbitrarily. 

He sighed.  
  
'Fine, I'm taking Bilbo, you take Thorin.'  
  
Thranduil frowned, 'Wait a moment now-'  
  
'Must be enough of entertainment. I'll go now. You do your job now.' Bard chuckled as he strode to the garden where Bilbo had just gone to tend leaving Thorin to finish with the dishes.

Thranduil looked utterly displeased with the matter but he knew he must make due.  
  
He hoped Thorin would be easy to confront but then again who was he kidding.  
  
Thranduil knew him like a rival.  
  
Enough to say that this would be no case of smooth sailing.

 _Smooth sailing?_ Thranduil thought, incredulously, _More like climbing the Himalayas in flip flops._

 

| - - - - |

  
'You are being ridiculous.' Bilbo murmured to Bard.  
  
'But. . .' Thranduil went on, 'I am never usually ridiculous neither do I find it of sudden interest of being ridiculous. That is, I'm afraid, your area of expertise.’

Thorin rolled his eyes.  
  
'So you're telling me you do not simply love him?' Bard raise a brow at Bilbo who was tending to the garden.  
  
'No, I do love him that is.' Bilbo answered, wide-eyed.  
  
'What I mean to say is I don't think I deserve him.'  
  
'You have got to be kidding me.'  Thranduil exhaled a deep breath at Thorin who was leaning on the kitchen platform.  
  
'But it's hardly the truth.' Bard insisted.  
  
'Thranduil, look at me! What do I have to offer him? That gem? What do I have?' Thorin thundered, crossing his arms.  
  
'And what if he returns your feelings?' Bard narrowed his eyes.  
  
'He. . .he would not.' Bilbo whispered, touching the petals of the flower.  
  
'Truly, why do you think that?' Thranduil asked, his tone softening.  
  
'Because, I'm not worth him!' Thorin asserted.  
  
'Oh to the stars watching me!' Thranduil mourned, 'I can bet you thousands Bard's having an easier time than me.'  
  
'What do you mean?' Thorin tilted his head, cynically.  
  
'That. . .' Bard continued with a sigh, 'Thranduil went on speak to Thorin about the same time I approached you.'  
  
'You did what now?!' Bilbo asked, shocked.  
  
'Bilbo, he loves you. Have you not noticed the way he looks at you?' Bard questioned.  
  
'Bard-'  
  
'-Why do you think your not worth him?' Bard straightened as he heard footsteps which Bilbo failed to listen.  
  
'Because Thorin's a treasure. Yes, I know he helped me to recover but that's hardly the reason. Although I do feel indebted to him for it but I love him for what he is not what he has done for me.' Bilbo smiled, morosely.  
  
'What is he that makes you love him for?' Bard continued to ask as he prayed to God that their plan would work.  
  
'What do I love him for? What can I not love him for more like. He's brave, he's so strong, so strong that it feels like he's made of stone and nothing can pierce him like when he proclaims he is alright oh. . .uh but. . .but on some nights when he thinks I'm sleeping. I know and I notice. He buries himself with regrets and self-doubts. I know he isn't fine and I yearn to hold him.  
  
'Tell him that he does not gain anything from misery and the past is in the past, let it go and free him from the faults he sees in himself. That although my love, these are faults but I would always adore you for them.'  
  
'And. . .and do you know how silly he can be? He . . .uh. . .he thought that I wouldn't like that knitted cowl that he spent weeks making just. . *sniff* because it had holes ? Are you fuckin' serious? Why the heck would I not like it?' He cried out, covering his face with his hands.  
  
'He's a fallen king, Bard, perhaps one without a kingdom but I will follow him regardless.' Bilbo sobbed in his hands.  
  
'Because he is my king.'  
  
A pair of arms wrapped around Bilbo's small frame and he froze at the familiarity. 'I don't know. . . I don't know what I could have ever done to deserve you.' Thorin spoke, burying his nose in Bilbo's hair.  
  
'T-Thorin?' Bilbo stuttered to him as he enclosed his small fingers in his large ones.  
  
'I was lost. I was broken. Drowned at sea. Life was meaningless, Bilbo. Yet, when you found me it felt like redemption, it felt like. . .like coming home. I would be yours alone, if you would have me. Your eyes, your heart and soul, your compassion, your hurt, your scars. I love you for them and you alone.  
  
'I do not know what it is that makes you feel unworthy of me for it is really the other way round. You led me ashore.' Thorin stated.  
  
Bilbo turned around, 'Do you mean that? Truly?' He asked, eyes taken in the dare of hope .  
  
'Yes. . .and. .' Thorin hesitated but plucked the courage as he finally said, 'If I a fallen king then would you crown me yours?’

And the words _for only then will I be reclaimed_ hung heavily upon the space between them.  
  
Bilbo's eyes widened as he swallowed hard. He looked into Thorin's eyes, calm and deep the ocean inside them held promise for him. That's all he needed. Unlike his sappy counterpart.  
  
He nodded, not trusting his voice.  
  
And among the petals that blew in the spring of May, a kiss shared earnestly by two who had found home in each other united.  
  
Bard shifted uncomfortably as he pulled Thranduil out of the garden where Thorin and Bilbo embraced each other, 'Why did you pull me out?'  
  
'Have you no respect for privacy?'  
  
'No.'  
  
Bard rolled his eyes. Yet when a kiss was shyly planted on his cheek it took him by surprise. He looked up at Thranduil in surprise.  
  
'Thank you for listening to me.'  
  
Bard grinned.  
  
'Honestly, it felt like a theatrical performance by Thorin. How dramatic can that man get?' Thranduil shrugged.  
  
'Don't you remember that play in high school? He was chosen as Arthur?'  
  
Thranduil chuckled at the recall. That was a  memory that still humoured him well enough.  
  
'Not like you aren't dramatic.' Bard furrowed his brows, sceptically. 'You sent a greenhouse of flowers to court me.'  
  
'It was necessary to prove my affection.'  
  
'And you tell me that Thorin's dramatic.'

| - - - - |

  
There came finally a day when Thranduil and Bard needed to return to their respectful companies. Bilbo waved them farewell as Thorin helped load the luggage brought.  
  
'We will miss you.' Bilbo said, holding Thranduil's hands.  
  
Thorin scoffed, 'Highly unlikely but alright.'  
  
Bard just chuckled at the good humour embedded. 'We will too. Do visit us sometime, Bilbo and you may be allowed to bring this thing along as well.' Thranduil waved towards Thorin who now wore a scowl.  
  
'Please, children. Behave.' Bilbo sighed.  
  
Bard hugged Bilbo and then they sat in the car, smiling at the couple as they went.  
  
'Thranduil.'  
  
The man looked at Thorin with a questioning ponder, 'What?'  
  
'The next time we meet.' Thorin said, a competitive smile taking its place, 'Let's run a race.'  
  
Thranduil looked surprised before matching it with the same cutthroat smirk he'd give back in the day, 'Are you sure you can catch up?'  
  
'Can you?'  
  
Both of them exchanged glances of confidence, grinning in good spirit as they parted. Well, that's the thing about old high school rivalry.  
  
Life had turned out unexpected to Thorin, this was certainly not where he anticipated to be but he was happy here.  
  
Especially with him around.  
  
Bilbo Baggins.  
  
The smooth winds that sailed past the branches of the tree and the birds that hummed quietly.  
  
'. . .Earth has not anything to show more fair.' At the moment Bilbo was reading poetry to him, lying his golden head on his lap as they sat on the grass, under the trees.  
  
Thorin listened to his voice than the words spoken, '. . .A sight so touching in its majestic.'  
  
He let his hand run through Bilbo's hair, observing his features sharply. Noticing the shape of his ears more closely now than ever. Finally, entwining his hands with Bilbo's. 'Well, and then I cheated on you with Thranduil.

Thorin blinked before reacting.  
  
'What?'  
  
'Ha! I knew you weren't paying attention.' Bilbo stared accusingly towards him.  
  
Thorin blinked again and chuckled at being caught red-handed.  
  
'What is it? Is something on your mind?'  
  
He stiffened. Well, there had been a certain _something_ but he was not quite sure if he should trouble Bilbo with it.  
  
'Thorin,' Bilbo grasped his cheeks gently with his hands. 'Love, is there something wrong? Did I do-'  
  
'-No. You're not at fault, it's just that. . .'  
  
'That?'  
  
'You know the Durins?'  
  
'Know? I'm not quite so sure but I have certainly heard of them.'  
  
'Well, yeah about that. . .I. .uh. .um. . .'  
  
Bilbo placed himself on Thorin's lap, holding his hands encouragingly, 'Yes?'  
  
Thorin took a breath, this was more harder than he had perceived it to be. 'I am their biological son.'  
  
Bilbo blinked.  
  
Once.  
  
Twice.  
  
Thrice.  
  
'I beg your pardon?'  
  
'I used to be Thorin Durin-'  
  
'-Son of Thráin, heir to Erebor.' Bilbo sputtered in realization. 'Goodness! I feel so stupid now. Everything makes sense.'  
  
'What does?'  
  
'I thought you were naturally conceited and egocentric but no, you were actually born into a family that considered it as a birthright.'  
  
As majestic as he was, Thorin slackened his jaw.  
  
Bilbo looked at him and the surreal realization of his mistake came to be at par, 'Oh well. . .um no, I didn't mean tha-'  
  
Thorin threw his head back as he laughed with a rumbling sound. Grinning as he met, he chuckled as he let his hands wander in Bilbo's hair. 'You are adorable.'  
  
At the irrelevance of the complement, Bilbo stared at him with a questioning brow, 'Do not even try sweet talking your way with me. Something's annoying you and I want to know about it.'  
  
Thorin sighed, 'No really-'  
  
'Thorin.' Bilbo rose from his lap making him since at the sudden loss of warmth. He sat upon Thorin's lap, facing the black haired man.  
  
'Remember Azog?'  
  
'The man with the reptilian husband?'  
  
'Yes, him.' Thorin smiled , fondly. 'So he sent me an invitation card to his wedding about a week back. . .'  
  
He heard Bilbo muttering something akin to that bastard before looking back at Thorin.  
  
'. . .and?'  
  
'And I'm not going.'  
  
'Why though?' Bilbo asked.  
  
'Because he just wishes to mock me. I might have been disowned but Azog is still an extremely rich business man. Many elites would be present. Inclusive of my family. And I'm sure as hell, I don't wanna see them ever again.'  
  
Thorin looked at Bilbo, meeting his eyes. 'Everything aside. The fact that I have pretty much been an a -class, top-notch jerk and an asshole . . .yet, I don't think I can ever quite forgiving my father for disowning me.'  
  
'I see.' Bilbo rendered, lacing his fingers silently against Thorin's hand tracing its outline so very carefully. He lowered his forehead gently to meet Thorin's.  
  
At that moment, Thorin instinctively closed his eyes. See, now this was the life he had built for himself. This treasure, the kind that made Thorin grateful for everything that happened, right or wrong. For the change of his character and for meeting Bilbo, the pain was worth it.  
  
He placed his hand at the back of Bilbo's neck, letting  things circles upon the space behind his ear. Thorin 's heart yelped when Bilbo softly giggled into the embrace.  
  
He opened his eyes to see the light, passing lazily through the branches. Gliding through Bilbo's curls, illuminating the golden shine in a haze. He sucked in a deep breath when Bilbo lifted his head up, smiling cheerfully as he did.  
  
Yes, this was his treasure.  
  
| - - - - |  
  
Thorin thought he was fairly intelligent. In spite of what Thranduil said. No really, he did all this while. He could identify people who did not wish him well, could know right away when someone was trying to manipulate him.  
  
But now he understood what Thranduil meant.  
  
Standing in Rhodes island for attending a destination wedding of an ex tends to make one feel that. Especially when said ex is an arse whose face made you feel the Kraken was a wonderful visage.  
  
Again, how was he roped into this?  
  
'But Thorin, I think you should go.' Bilbo started, innocently. This conversation happened right after Thorin expressed his desire to see his nephews who he had not met for years now.  
  
Somehow, his darling lover had managed to get him to book a flight to Rhodes island where the wedding was taking place. Bilbo had insisted that Thorin was trying to run away from everything that had made him who he was. Of course, he was right like he always was. A quality that Thorin had come to equally adore and loathe.  
  
The fear of facing everyone held him back. That was Bilbo had stated and it was not that Thorin blindly believed him. It was as if he had been waiting for someone to shove it up to his face. Eventually, Thorin came around to the idea and decided that perhaps he should attend the wedding. If for nothing else than to punch Azog for the last time. That considerably made him feel better. However, there was still. . .  
  
'Thorin, this is it then.' He nervously glanced towards the smiling man next to him.  Bilbo wasn't supposed to come with him.  
  
_'You and I are the same, Thorin. When you face your fears, may I please stand by your side?_ '  
  
That statement led to a rather passionate night which Thorin looked back at with great affection.  However, it also affirmed that Thorin had no problem in attending the said wedding with his lover.  
  
Thorin smiled back, wrapping a protective arm around Bilbo.  
  
'I am afraid.' He admitted in secrecy.  
  
Bilbo turned to face him, letting his warm hands cup Thorin's face. 'Look here now.' He said, making him stare deep within dark acorn eyes.  
  
'You remember that time when we had a Sunday brunch with Thranduil, Bard and Gandalf?' Bilbo asked, drawing him closer. Gandalf had been a friend known by all of them, in fact, he was the bus driver who had  dropped Thorin off initially when he had come to the Shire.  
  
'Remember this one time when Thranduil and Bard knocked Gandalf out by accidentally hitting him a frying pan?'  
  
However, knowing Thranduil though it was a subjective matter of whether or not it was accidental.  
  
Thorin chuckled at the mention made. That had been hilarious. Following it when Gandalf awoke a few several minutes later he ran after Bard and Thranduil, swinging his staff in the air and cursing at them. The entire street laughed.  
  
He really wanted to take a picture of it but he knew Thranduil would have his hide if he did. Not like Thorin was scared of him, make no mistake with that. He was always going to gain happiness with watching Thranduil suffer. Yet, now that Thorin thought about it, his perspective of the tall, elvish like man had undergone a change.  
  
Thranduil wasn't as bad as he assumed him to be. This, of course, Thorin would never let him know.  
  
'Yes.’ He replied.  
  
'I want you to remember that feeling.' Bilbo kissed his hands as they remained secluded in a corner. 'We are gonna be fine.'  
  
Not for the first time in his life Thorin wondered exactly what had he done to deserve a person like Bilbo. Whatever it was, he thanked his stars for it now.  
  
And so they entered the venue which hardly failed to disappoint Thorin's idea of a big fat Greek wedding that was draped in elegance. However, it did humour Bilbo to an extent.  
  
'Wait. . .is that a fountain of-'  
  
'Wine? Yes, yes it is.'  
  
'And is that a flower crown made of silver?'  
  
'It is more likely to be platinum.'  
  
'And. . .is that-is that Galadriel Lothlórien? The Galadriel Lothlórien?'  
  
'Yes, I think she's related to Thranduil in some way though, but yes.'  
  
Bilbo stared incredulously at Thorin. 'This looks like a red carpet event designed by Great Gatsby.'  
  
'By all means it probably is.'  
  
He sighed and shook his head, 'This is the kind of atmosphere Thranduil would thrive in although.'  
  
'Oh he would.' Thorin agreed.  
  
They both sat down on the well-furnished chairs. So far no one had approached them which Thorin had considered a good sign perhaps he could just punch Azog, see his nephews for the last time and take a flight back to London. Then live in the Shire to grow old with Bilbo. With additional irritants like Thranduil but he could manage.  
  
All together that seemed like a pretty good life if you asked his honest opinion.  
  
|- - - -|  
  
Thranduil Greenwood Oropherion, the third was a man of elegance, intellect and consequence. A perfect blend. Growing up he was given every little thing in the world. From his first flute to owning a dress that cost a hundred thousand pounds just because it had his favourite colours printed on it. He had it all.  
  
So it should not come as a surprise when everything fell down. When Bard was in America at the meanwhile Thranduil was handling a deal with another company. No one really knew what clearly happened but Thranduil's error in the deal cost the Greenwood Enterprises half its worth. 

Out of which the already ailing Mr. Oropherion died of a cardiac arrest. Thranduil always blamed himself for the death. Always.  
  
However, if that just made him more sharply defined in business, did it do any harm to his vanity?  
  
'Excuse me? Which level of poverty is this?'  Thranduil stated, shamelessly loud. 'Roses? Like which century are we living in? Shakespeare's era?'  
  
Clearly, no.  
  
'Thran,' Bard chidded, shaking his head. 'You like roses as well.'  
  
'No. I changed them last week, I like daffodils now.'  
  
'And that's not Shakespearean?'  Bard laughed as they had just entered the venue of Azog's wedding to Smaug. Passing through the large fountain of champagne with little fountains of wine following it and bushes of roses were found everywhere in an elegant order. The ground was floored with fine white marble that seemed appealing to Bard.  
  
Thranduil huffed in a manner that would make Bard coo had they not been in public.  He looked quite adorable if one asked Bard. In a floral Gucci suit, wearing the same printed heels. Thranduil looked like a God. _A very tall God,_ Bard grieved.  
  
They swept the stage to give Azog and Smaug their congratulations. More like his congratulations, Thranduil just wished for entertainment by insulting them. He was there for the keeps. According to Bard, Smaug and Azog could not have found anyone worse or better than each other. Both of them were awful enough. 

Like those people who cause your day to go bad and if your day was already going down they would bring it even lower. Yeah those sorts.  
  
For reasons indistinguishably odd, Bard never found a reason to not loathe Smaug with his whole heart. It felt like age old rivalry or animosity of years seethed beneath his skin. Almost as if in some destined ways of the old that he was supposed to bring Smaug down. Funny thought. But there it was.  
  
'Hello, Azog. Congratulations on your marriage.' Thranduil sweetly breathed out as they reached the stage where the couple dressed in white greeted them.  
  
_Hmm,_ Bard thought, _maybe Thran is going to be civil._  
  
'It is lovely to have you both wed. May your suffering be everlasting since both of you are equally obnoxious.'  
  
Bard's face fell. Perhaps, Thranduil was right. He did expect a lot.  
  
'Your absence would have been cherished, Thranduil.' Azog returned, grittingly.  
  
'Oh but I couldn't miss it for the world. It would be a stain upon my honour.' Thranduil exaggerated, keeping his expression neutral.  
  
'If you have honour that is, Thranduil Oropherion.' A peculiarly familiar voice stated and Bard felt trepidation of a strange kind upon his brow.  
  
Thráin Durin stood alongside most Durins who had been invited.  
  
'Mr. Thráin Durin, I am quite assured that you of all people wouldn't know honour even if it flashed right at you with neon green lights attached.' Thranduil flipped his hair as a few amongst the Durins gasped. 'Anyway, let's leave. This place smells of toxicity and it's bad for my skin.'  
  
Bard shook his head and was about to leave before another voice sprang up.  
  
'Still his dog are you? Bard?' Frerin bit out venomously glaring daggers at his lover.  
  
'And what would you call the whole lot of you? Dwarves?' Thranduil quipped, owing a sharp gesture to the vertical challenges the Durins faced.  
  
'At least, we are not cold and heartless like you snake.' Dís spat out, curtly.  
  
'At least we don't hand the poison to our loved ones ourselves!'  
  
No one knew who said it but one among the large crowd of Durins did while they thought the jab was low even for the Durins. To Thranduil, it struck close to home. His father's death still haunted him. Thranduil took in a brisk breath, Bard saw red when he heard the statement but Thranduil looked close to breaking his own façade.  
  
His anger could wait, priorities could not.  
  
Thranduil was one and Bard wished to get him out of here. 'Thran, come on.' He gently took his hand.  
  
'Running away so quick, Thranduil?' Azog jeered, of course, that uncultured swine was enjoying from his position, 'I thought that you would like to be reminded more of Mister Oropher's death and exactly-'  
  
'Speak another word, Azog and there'll be a scar on your tongue matching the one on your face.' A thunderous voice came down.  
  
Bard turned slightly to see Thorin standing, looking positively close to murderous.  
  
_Oh boy._  
  
Bilbo seemed concerned being firmly wrapped in his arms. His eyes however, looked over Thranduil protectively. In fact now he didn't know who was more surprised, the Durins or Thranduil.  
  
'Thorin. How long has it been?' Azog grinned, wickedly.  
  
'Long enough for me to know that punching you must feel akin to paradise.' Thorin snapped.  
  
'Why so rude? The entire Durin clan's here.' Azog informed cunningly  as Bard swallowed hard. This did not look good. Of course he didn't expect Thorin to not side with his family. A Durin was always Durin, disowned by rights or not. 

With a straight face, Thorin answered, 'So?'  
  
Even Azog looked perplexed at his nonchalance, 'Well, rather funny is what I was going to point out, that you defend Thranduil. Isn't he a sworn enemy of Durins-'  
  
'Again. Your point is invalid. I don't recall being a Durin. Neither is Thranduil a sworn enemy of mine.'  
  
'Then what is he?' Dís prompted as Thorin raised a brow surprised.   
  
'He is. . .' Thorin gave a sidelong glance to Thranduil meaningfully. He had overheard  a part of the conversation Thranduil and Bard were having on the day which he said he trusted Thorin. With Bilbo. A countless number of moments shared between them flood back to him as the corner of lip lifted upwards. '. .a friend. Close to family.'  
  
Dís, Frerin and Dwalin exchanged expression of confoundment in contrast to the hurt that was visibly clear on Thráin's face.  
  
There was a soft wave of gasps and whispers that went around as if something scandalous had been done. _Honestly, though,_ Bard asserted quietly to himself, _had the whole situation not been so tense it would have been downright comical._  
  
With only a glance given to the direction of his nephews hardly teenagers, who looked at him in fondness, Thorin sighed in content as he turned to leave. Bilbo and Bard took that as a cue.  
  
'Oh and Azog.' Thorin remembered quite abruptly turning back and before Azog could react. He raised his fist and swiftly pumped a punch square on his nose. Azog, due to the impact, fell to Smaug's arms who looked equally taken off guard.  
  
'Those are my wishes. Don't you fucking contact me again.'  
  
So saying he left not sparing the expense of a word or a glimpse to his biological family. He would never forgive, he would never forget. His family was here and it was all he needed. His nephews' company would never be refused.  
  
_So when years later they show up at Bag End, Thorin tries his best not to cry, Bilbo pats his shoulder and bakes for the boys who immediately love him and tells them stories they've missed of their uncle. Most embarrassing ones obviously. They just love harassing him is what Thorin thinks. That would be then._  
  
For now, things would be just fine.  
  
He smiled at Bilbo as they got out of the wedding grounds as Bard and Thranduil silently followed. Thorin held Bilbo close who snuggled his nose into his chest, 'You okay, love?'  
  
'Never been better.'  
  
Thorin grinned happily before he felt something poking him in the side. He raised his gaze to Thranduil who was beaming like Christmas had come. The concept was that Thorin thought himself to be the only  one who could insult Thranduil and vice versa was applicable. They were possessive of each other that way. Bard and Bilbo found it overly cute though.  
  
That's when Thorin remembered what he did.  
  
_Oh dear._  
  
'So. . .I am _your_ _friend_. _Close to family._ Is it?'  
  
At the happy condescension present in his voice, Thorin groaned and the others laughed.  
  
And life had never been better.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for grammatical errors. Do point them out to me if you find them. Thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me for grammatical errors. Do point them out to me if you find them. Thank you.


End file.
